


With Regrets

by CobblestoneMidnight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobblestoneMidnight/pseuds/CobblestoneMidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he can think about is how much this mistake could cost him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Regrets

There's a soft beeping that marks time under the hum of the other machinery. A voice over the PA is calling someone from a different part of the building. There's very little shuffle in the corridor, as it's well past midnight. The rain is pattering softly on the window. But all this is white noise compared to the sound of all the thoughts racing through that sharp, analytical mind.

He's been up for days. It's no matter. His body is used to being under outrageous demands when on a case. But even now, after the comedown and crash of the case two days ago, he can't sleep, but if he's honest, he hasn't tried.

The case - that bloody case! - is still swimming somewhere in the very back of his mind. Where had he gone wrong? He couldn't have miscalculated. 

And yet. 

There was no time for a warning. No time to even blink before the explosion blossomed against the sky to his right and sent everyone and everything within it's reach raining back down to earth several paces to his left. But why didn't he see it?! He should have known. Such an obvious mistake. A mistake that could very well cost him everything.

The doctors said it would take time before they knew just how much damage had been done. There were too many injuries to keep the patient conscious while his wounds began to heal. They said a medically induced coma would keep him suspended in a mostly numb ignorance until he could be awoken. Of course that was the right thing to do. Keep his suffering to an absolute minimum. No need to add more pain caused by the ignorance - his ignorance - that put him here in the first place. But things still can't be fixed with him like this, there can't be an apology.

Instead, he sees the pain skitter ever-so-slightly across the backs of his friend's eyelids and vaults himself out of the chair he has stiffly become one with over the last 48 hours, and sweeps the pad of his thumb gently over the other's brow. It soothes instantly, and there is a small murmur that follows. The sharp grey eyes quickly take in the change of expression as he listens for any change in the monitors.

Satisfied, he takes one warm, but limp, hand in his cool palm and squeezes. He climbs carefully, as not to disturb the delicate tubing, into the hospital bed next to the sleeping man, curling himself up so that he can whisper into the other's ear.

"John," Sherlock murmurs. "John, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."


End file.
